


Poly Losers: Stanley takes a bath

by XxRainbowHeartxX



Series: A look into the life of the Poly Losers [1]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: A little angst, Adult Losers Club (IT), Cuddling & Snuggling, Cute, F/M, Fluff, I'm Bad At Tagging, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Multi, Polyamorous Losers Club (IT), Polyamory, Sad Stanley Uris, Stanley Uris Has OCD, Stanley Uris Takes a Bath, Stanley Uris-centric, The Losers Club (IT) Love Each Other, but not in a bad way
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:41:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22704115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XxRainbowHeartxX/pseuds/XxRainbowHeartxX
Summary: There's an unspoken rule in the Poly Losers house.Stanley Uris is not allowed to take a bath alone.
Relationships: Ben Hanscom/Stanley Uris, Beverly Marsh/Stanley Uris, Bill Denbrough/Mike Hanlon/Ben Hanscom/Eddie Kaspbrak/Beverly Marsh/Richie Tozier/Stanley Uris, Bill Denbrough/Stanley Uris, Eddie Kaspbrak/Stanley Uris, Mike Hanlon/Stanley Uris, Richie Tozier/Stanley Uris
Series: A look into the life of the Poly Losers [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1633006
Comments: 7
Kudos: 130





	Poly Losers: Stanley takes a bath

  
The thing about bathtubs is that they’re usually built for one person. But that’s only a true fact if you have a normal size tub. 

When you put seven people, all in a relationship together, in one large house. They tend to have a larger everything. Beds are bigger to accommodate them all in one room. They even all have their own bedrooms for if someone just wants a bit of alone time. Their couch was huge, fitting nicely in their even larger living room. It was enough space for the seven of them to fit comfortably. 

Everything in their house was designed and constructed by Ben. That was one of the many perks of having an architect for a boyfriend. He kept all of them in mind when building the place.

The bathtub was no exception to this.

The thing was big enough to be considered a hot tub rather than a bathtub. It was for good reason. You see, there was an unspoken rule in the losers home. Stanley Uris is not allowed to take a bath alone. 

That's why, at the current moment, he sat in said large tub. His shorter legs were tangled with the long legs of Richie Tozier. The larger gentleman still had his glasses on, splashing around in the water and making idle commentary. Stanley chose to stay quiet, watching his boyfriend have fun in the warm water. 

Many years back, when they were fifteen years old, there was an incident. It had been a few summers since ‘The Worst Summer of Their Lives’ and things had just started to get better. The seven of them had just begun figuring things out about their relationship. The nightmares were fading and it would only be a couple more years before they could move out of the wretched town. 

Everything was going alright

Until it wasn’t. One cold december night, they all seven received a phone call from Donald Uris, explaining that something bad had happened to Stanley.

Apparently, his parents had gone away for a ceremony in another town. Stanley stayed behind because of school. Due to harsh weather along the way, Mr. and Mrs. Uris had to come back home immediately. 

Stanley had not known that fact, and chose that time to lay himself in the tub and draw deep lines from wrist to elbow with one of his fathers razors. 

His parents made it home just as he almost slipped away forever. They had him at the hospital just in time to get the life back into his body. Many hours later, after he had awoken, the other Losers were called.

They rushed to the hospital as fast as possible. Whether it was sneaking out and riding double on their bikes or if it was getting a ride from their parents, they made it there in record time. 

The six of them gathered around his bedside, tears falling down everyone's faces, and told him everything they loved about him. They held onto him as he cried. As he told them the truth about everything that went on inside his head. His nightmares never slowed, never stopped. The scars maring his face from the painting lady made him feel sick and insecure. Despite all their signals, he didn’t think he’d ever fit into their relationship as well as they seemed to be doing it. The idea of it coming back haunted him every waking moment. 

These things had been plaguing him for years, and they never knew. He had been insecure long before that summer. 

And they never knew

And so, they listened. They showed they cared and they refused to let go. They absorbed every word he said, refusing to forget so they never forgot to tell him how much he meant to them. That night, a promise was made to never give up on each other. A promise was made to love each other, and make sure no one ever forgot. 

That night, the all official confessed to each other. It was a bittersweet moment. 

The months following that were rough, but they held strong together. Stanley started to see the best therapist in Bangor, Maine. He went every Tuesday and Thursday after school. Sometimes, he brought one of the loser’s with him. 

He refused to shower alone. One or more of the others would sit themselves in the bathroom with him, distracting him from the thoughts in his head or holding his hand from behind the curtain. Sometimes, they would crame themselves in the tub with him, both individuals wearing swim wear or were fully dressed. 

It soon became an everyday thing that continued even as they were nearing their thirties.   
That's why you could usually find two out of seven of the losers piled on top of each other in their extra large tub. 

At exactly Seven p.m. the water had been turned on. Stanley removed his clothes, folded and refolded them not once. Not twice. But three times. He set them in a neat stack, like a small pyramid, on the corner of the counter. Strewn across the floor in various wads were Richie’s clothes. 

The messiest of the seven and the neatist. It was a beautiful display of opposites that attract. 

They even sat on opposite sides of the tub. 

“- I mean, Seriously!” Richie threw his hands up, letting them slam back into the tub and sending drops of water flying in all directions. The warm liquid even made it down to the floor. Stan lifted an eyebrow, lips twitching up as he watched his boyfriend rant. “How can you not find my jokes funny? Sure, I don't really write my own stuff, but that doesn't mean it’s not funny.”

He huffed out, crossing his arms over his chest like a toddler throwing a tantrum. Earlier that day, he had been recognized while at the store with Mike. Another person chimed in that he was a ‘shit comedian’ and ‘none of his stuff was funny’. 

Mike had to drag the poor man out by his collar, still fuming over the comments. 

Richie made sure everyone knew about it when they returned home. Now, it appears, was Stan’s turn to hear the story. 

The comedian continued on with his dramatic retelling, but Stan was a bit distracted. His gaze was now locked onto the clear water, absent-mindedly rubbing his fingers over the raised white lines on his forearms. He was so lost in his own thoughts that he failed to notice Richie fall silent as well. 

A larger set of hands reached out, gently grabbing his own smaller ones. Richie pulled them up, leaning down to place a trail of soft kisses down each arm. 

And then he was sliding, pulling his larger body around so he was leaning against Stan’s side. He flung an arm out, wrapping it around his partner's shoulders. 

A soft kiss was placed against Stan’s curls.

“I love you, Blue bird.”

Stan’s eyes prickled with tears as the cold feeling faded from his body. 

“I love you too, Rich.”

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to leave advice in the comments!


End file.
